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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23090890">If Starfish Could Talk</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelicEclair/pseuds/AngelicEclair'>AngelicEclair</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>τέρας φιλία [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>BioShock 1 &amp; 2 (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Gen, Human/Monster Romance, Teratophilia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 12:08:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,917</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23090890</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelicEclair/pseuds/AngelicEclair</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Reader is charmed by the humanity of the Big Daddies and wants to show her appreciation somehow. She is curious as to whether they have retained their needs after conditioning and if they would even been interested in a more physical reward.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Big Daddy (BioShock)/Original Character(s), Big Daddy (BioShock)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>τέρας φιλία [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1659619</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>193</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>If Starfish Could Talk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>If this is not your cup of tea, please do not read or leave comments!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     Atlantis never slept. The sea was insomniatic. </p><p>     In the North Atlantic Ocean, somewhere between Greenland and Iceland, there, at a depth to which most divers would find challenging to descend, was a submarine Eden turned dystopia. There, in the terrible darkness, lived only angler fish, isopods, and mankind's most celebrated artists and thinkers. Maybe they weren't so different after all.</p><p>     The elite were promised prosperity in a <em> laissez-faire </em> bubble beyond the iron grip of oppression by government and religion. The founders should have foreseen that even the most intelligent people cannot live without human or natural law. Civil war broke out on the eve of 1959, leaving much of Rapture's population dead. The remaining citizens either became psychotic due to their genetic material being altered beyond repair or have barricaded entire cities to protect themselves from the raving Splicers, leaving the city to fail and fall into ruin around them. </p><p>     The people once saw Andrew Ryan as a prophet, but he only saw them as <em> profit </em>. Surely Rapture should have been the chilled nest of sea-nymphs, a home for only those as wise as the tides, but it was instead an unfathomable drug den, and none of the greats could remember if they ever had a mind at all.</p><p>     (Y/N) tried to keep her wits about her, working as a secretary at the Rapture Tribune. It all felt egregiously mundane, sealed away in their own quarter of Heaven, away from the sanguinary Splicers. She sometimes forgot she was no longer on the surface until she would unfurl from her hunkered down position over her typewriter and catch a glimpse of water caustics dancing over her hand from the porthole in her office. </p><p>     It was too raw and wild to be real, yet somehow familiar at the same time, like a dream or an ancient impression belonging to the human species, imprinted in the code, a knowledge deeper than a memory. Perhaps that was why the people began relying on their base instincts; everything felt like a dream. Surely there were no real repercussions for actions. So, the people, just like the protrusible jawed goblin shark, were phantom-like, and demoniacal in the pursuit of their repulsive instincts; some even had the same nail-like teeth. </p><p>     (Y/N)'s eyes sharpened back into focus. The neon signs' light diffused through the water. If it weren't for the schools of luminous silver fish flittering past, (Y/N) might have imagined herself up in the sky, with the meteors and comets blazing past. Everything was hair-raisingly soundless, until the tunnel she was sat daydreaming in began to tremble. A deep, gurgling roar came from the distance, followed by girlish giggling.</p><p>     A Big Daddy was approaching with a Little Sister in tow. She had to be back on her way to her apartment. No one with a grain of sense left allows themselves to be caught alone with a Big Daddy and his precious cargo.</p><p>     Despite their hulking appearance, made to instill fright and deter those with ill-intent from stealing away a Little Sister, (Y/N) found them quite fascinating. She was pulled by the undercurrent in their direction. The only things that marred its beauty were the maintenance workers - the Protectors that Ryan's speech had mentioned, or Big Daddies, as people knew them. Songs like Marilyn Monroe's "Every Baby Needs A Da-Da-Daddy" and Annette Hanshaw's "Daddy Won't You Please Come Home" echoed wistfully down leaking corridors, reminding the residence of the lurking monstrosity that they were supposed to accept into the Rapture family. Billboards and posters continually assured everyone of their necessity. Even adult shops began carrying erotic novels depicting Big Daddy's as lonely, touch-starved men, handsome as the likes of Hollywood heartthrob Humphrey Bogart. </p><p>     Despite the clear push to romanticize the big lugs by Fontaine Futuristics, there probably wasn't a silver fox or a sharp-jawed Adonis hiding beneath the massive helmet by any means, but the unknown provided a crucial jolt of excitement for (Y/N) just the same. </p><p>     Spending time studying them, cataloging their updated features and weaponry, (Y/N) knew the nature of the Big Daddy's better than many of the scientists. They could be endearingly docile or more ruthless than a Splicer on a week-long Adam binge. </p><p>      But there was something else that most overlooked or refused to accept as fact.</p><p>     Typically, they were more 'human' than the human residents of Rapture. She once saw a Big Daddy gift his little girl with a pearl after a routine maintenance dive to repair the outside of the structure. She gasped in awe and turned the blue-haloed pearl in her palm. The Big Daddies were, undoubtedly, but still shamefully superior to the suit-wearing daddies of Rapture. They never drank Scotch and hit mommy in front of their little girl. They never slid down the wall, Spliced out of their minds, nose bleeding, and eyes rolling back as their little girl peered from her room, hungry, scared, and crying. </p><p>     The "freak of science" was the sanest choice for the job and was more devoted than their girl's real fathers. It was clear what made a monster and what made a man. Surprisingly, having one's flesh grafted into diving gear had nothing to do with it. She admired their compassion when the world showed them none. She knew it was much more than the conditioning that made them that way. </p><p>     Her heart was a plunging anchor at the way they were treated. Perhaps it is only natural to lash out at something one cannot comprehend, but it does not make it right.</p><p>     She took care to draw them when they passed, while she drank her morning coffee and prepared for her long workday. One noticed her getting too close and whirred his drill as a warning. (Y/N) showed the sketch and he lowered it slowly, but still urged his Little Sister along. The watertight door snapped shut behind them, and (Y/N) was alone again, her flesh tingling coldly.</p><p>     What was it that made her feel this way? She had to know. Well, for starters, there was something sexy about dads in general. They were the forbidden fruit. They had a new priority - which was caring for and protecting a child. It made them into softies, and a nurturing man can be magnetic. The Bid Daddies were an amalgamation of all these qualities and <em> twice  </em>as forbidden! (Y/N) always was attracted to the dark side of things. Perhaps that's why the invitation to Rapture seemed so appealing. She knew the risks but shoved them aside to pursue thrill. </p><p>     A pipe above (Y/N)'s head pronounces something, over and over, in a hoarse whisper; she couldn't quite make out. Then the alcove inside the tunnel began to quake, the glass rattling on all sides, the fish outside swerving away. The Big Daddy had returned. This time, childless and on a mission to retrieve another Little Sister from another golden vent. Now seemed like the best time for (Y/N) to have a long-pondered question laid to rest.</p><p>      Just <em> how  </em>human were the Big Daddies after their conditioning?</p><p>     She wasn't Rita Hayworth, but her silk pantyhose and sweet collared-dress made her feel like a shy, little housewife, deliciously dwarfed by such a bulky brute. It made her stomach twist hotly like the steaming pipes overhead. Being suppressed by her 9-to-5 job and without companionship since she became a citizen of the underwater city was grinding her nerves and making her desperate. </p><p>      How would she get its attention without startling it into aggression?</p><p>     She cleared her throat just as it lumbered past, but it did not pause even for a second. Not that she really expected it to. Earning a Big Daddy's trust was a fickle thing, but she had to try. However, curiosity was not known to be friendly towards cats. Grabbing her sketchbook, she sped over to the beast and grabbed his forearm. As she expected, he whipped around, and she shoved the drawing of him up where he could see.</p><p>     The harsh sun-strong bioluminescent glow through his portholes simmered down to a calm marigold. The Big Daddy rumbled as he seemed to look over her pencil-shaving sprinkled sketch. A rumble bounced around in the fishbowl-like helmet. Was it pleased?</p><p>"I've been watching and...I guess I wanted to thank you for keeping us safe!"</p><p>     Her innards were churning as she shrank down in his penetrating gaze.</p><p>"A lot of people say a lot of hateful, nasty things about Protectors. You don't get nearly enough credit for what you do. This place wouldn't have lasted as long as it did if it weren't for you. I know you...didn't have a choice in the matter, but I can still see your humanity. You have more than most do here."</p><p>     The lull between words was filled with the gurgling outside, and a thud as a fish dumbly swam into the glass.</p><p>     (Y/N) chuckled anxiously as she grasped for words.</p><p>"I have always wondered how <em> I </em> would thank you. Though it is quite crass, I guess there is no better way to repay someone for their humanity than treating them like a human."</p><p>     Shaking, (Y/N)'s hand slid over its cold, metal carapace, wondering if it could take a hint. Its baseball mitt-like hand was quick to grab her wrist as it stood and seemed to assess her possible motivations in his mind. (Y/N) did not dare breathe. Instead, she stood as still as she could manage until her lungs burned, and she became dizzy. She felt like any wrong move could get her sliced beyond recognition, but she was hoping the Big Daddies were as understanding and cognizant as she theorized. </p><p>     Slowly, the Bouncer let her dainty wrist free and raised its non-drill hand, and placed it on her back, 'hugging' her close. He was incredibly frigid. (Y/N) shivered and let the furious onslaught of goosebumps take over every inch.</p><p>"Don't you think you still deserve a little...tenderness? A chance to...feel like your old self again?"</p><p>     The Big Daddy let out what sounded like a deep, nostalgic sigh. Did he recall the times when he had a lady's affection? When he was cocooned in sheets, his lady naked except for a drop of perfume, Frank Sinatra still crooning from the radio as they slept.</p><p>     Did his heart, if he still had a heart, ache with bittersweetness?  </p><p>     (Y/N)'s heart was trashing like a stormy sea. Was she actually going to go through with this? She raised her dress over her thighs, giving the creature a glimpse at her most vulnerable area. She teasingly thumbed the waistband of her pantyhose, drawing the Big Daddy's attention down to her frilled panties.</p><p>     His enormous hand cupped and hesitantly kneaded her ass like he was afraid he would crush her with his palm alone. He wasn't wrong for his carefulness.</p><p>"I guess you <em>do </em>still have those desires then, huh?"</p><p>     (Y/N) was not worried about anyone coming through the bulkhead and catching them in the questionable act. The Big Daddy would not let anyone live to tell what they had seen, she was sure. </p><p>     (Y/N) groped for any way to part the rusted metal sheet from his body and release his manhood.</p><p>"How...do we...?"</p><p>     The Bouncer demonstrated by reaching down with his non-drill hand and yanked off the plating that covered his crotch. To (Y/N)'s surprise, the armor protecting his nethers was not bolted in place like the rest, just looking the part, but able to be removed then snapped back. The Big Daddy growled when his throbbing cock bobbed against the chilly air. He was dreadfully swollen - years and years worth of penning up, no doubt. His pubic hair was as unkempt as she had expected it to bed. The dark thatch of curls had a brackish musk, like the smell of seaweed. Not inappropriate, considering the circumstance and evident neglect. His length was dark, uncut, and worryingly-thick. </p><p>     The heady, purely-man smell made (Y/N)'s panties wet. Her gaze was simply transfixed, and the Big Daddy's heavy, bestial breathing grew louder. (Y/N) fingers gripped him experimentally before a large, impatient hand grabbed the hem of her dress and yanked it back up over her hips. (Y/N)'s body was shanked with a bolt of cold fear as his drill slowly spun to life. To her relief, the Bouncer only ripped through her pantyhose and underwear. He didn't even nick her skin, but the drill was so close, she could feel the warmth whizzing off of it.</p><p>     After the shock of the sudden movement had simmered down, (Y/N) giggled, trying to get her breathing under control. "Someone's eager!" </p><p>     The Bouncer guided (Y/N) to grip onto the railing along his metal carapace for purchase, as he wrenched her leg up. His deft fingers squeezed painfully. He moved forward, slipping his massive length under (Y/N)'s lower lips. How could she control her breathing when his warmth was seeping against her. She could feel the blood pumping inside of his raring cock. </p><p>      (Y/N) hazarded a glance into one of his viewports, and she could swear eyes were staring back at her. The bulbous tip suddenly bumped hard against her engorged clit, causing her to jump and yelp. </p><p>     Her sweaty hand squeezed the railing until her knuckles ached. The Big Daddy began rocking forward, pushing his shaft against her pussy over and over. With every thrust, the creature's need grew more insatiable. She could feel the plump veins against her silken folds.</p><p>"I don't think you can fit it all in, but...I do want you to make yourself feel as good as possible with me." </p><p>     The Big Daddy didn't need any more encouragement. He positioned himself, rather clumsily, and poked his drill into her lower back, the crust of barnacles scratching her smooth skin. Her body bowed, and the rounded glans began to push up, slowly stretching open her labia. It was merely pressing her folds deeper against the core of her body without actually popping in. Was he ever going to breach her? The sizzling sting was becoming unbearable like she was being ripped in two. He was impossibly huge, pulsing against her hot inner walls as he crammed himself upwards into her vice-like heat. It must have felt like pushing open Heaven's gates to him, but to her, it felt like citrus in a hellish burn.</p><p>     She could smell nothing but salt - his sweat, her tears, the sea. She could only hear her blood hammering in her ears.</p><p>     Growing frustrated, the Big Daddy spun (Y/N) around and leaned her forward against the cold glass. Oh, if starfish could talk, the things they'd say...</p><p>     White heat skewered her gut as the Bouncer crammed himself in with a snarl. A mind-melting flame danced urgently up her spine and (Y/N) whined loudly, her toes curling inside her heels at the slight bulge in her stomach.</p><p>     Tears tracked mascara down her face. There was no way she could go into work now, she would have to call in sick. It wouldn't be much of a fib, knowing that after the Big Daddy had fucked her, she would be immobile. She imagined what her friends from work would say about the rendezvous. Not that she would ever confess, not even on her death bed.</p><p>     The Big Daddy's movements were unsteady, animalistic, and needy as he chased the flame that was somewhere deep in her body.</p><p>     (Y/N) cried out in the feverish assault. A rough, gloved hand gripped her hip tightly enough to bruise.</p><p>     Feeling her insides getting suited to the invading girth, (Y/N) willed herself to relax and open up more. The majority of the discomfort ebbed away, and the Big Daddy stretched her in a way that every single nerve ending was engulfed in fire. She was nearing the edge of the Marianas Trench and looking down at the spiraling blackness, dizzy, faint. Her shaking fingers mashed against her bud as she swirled it in frantic circles, using the last of her energy. </p><p>     The Big Daddy let out a harrowing moan. The climax felt like a punch to the gut. He pulled her back onto him sharply as his cum filled her to the brim. Her orgasm rippled through her pain as his softened cock slipped out, and his thick seed dripped onto the grate below.</p><p>     (Y/N) was gasping and drooling, as if she had just outrun a heard of Splicers. Feeling her energy dwindle and black spot throb at the edge of her vision, she knew she needed to get back to her apartment soon. Being vulnerable and out in the open could be a death sentence. She bent down to pick up the discarded piece of armor and pushed it back into place with a huff. The Big Daddy grumbled appreciatively. </p><p>"I guess you...you should get back to work. I should too, but..." (Y/N) smiled weakly and motioned to the ripped panties and pantyhose around her ankle. The Big Daddy put out a large hand and motioned upwards like she had noticed them do when they were coaxing the Little Sisters to sit on their shoulders. </p><p>"You want me to...?</p><p>     The Big Daddy grunted into response and (Y/N) beamed and chuckled.</p><p>"Take me home, Mr. B!" She chimed, as she recalled what the Little Sisters called them with fondness. </p>
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